


Nowhere Else to Go

by mambojambo



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28659897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mambojambo/pseuds/mambojambo
Summary: Written for the challenge prompt:"The villain shows up at the hero’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes– they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the hero, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “…didn’t know where else to go…” then collapse into the hero’s arms."
Relationships: Mello | Mihael Keehl/Near | Nate River
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	Nowhere Else to Go

Near cradles the phone with his shoulder while he aims a dart with his free hand. "I've told the Colonel where the next reconnaissance location will be, so this case should be wrapped up by tomorrow."

"As for the USB?" asks Roger on the other end of the line.

"Destroy it." Near launches the rocket-patterned missile and lands a lucky shot on the corkboard hanging on the door. "The technicians received the key to decrypt the rest of the messages hours ago. They should have already finished translating the previous records so there's no need to keep it."

"Understood." There's a shuffle and a soft click of a briefcase closing shut. "Is there anything else you need, Near?"

There was an advert earlier for a new remote helicopter that intrigued him but nothing of importance. "No, when is your flight back?" he asks, like he does at the end of every case.

"About that, the next available flight is tomorrow at noon. It's a holiday, so it's been hard to find someone willing to give up their seat. I'll update you once I do." The fifteen year-old holds onto the dart and lets it hang from his fingertips. Roger is the only help-- coworker, caretaker, chauffer, emissary, guardian-- he has on hand, and he can hear the exhaustion creeping into the old man's voice. They've already discussed transitioning to hired help thanks to Near's increased caseload, but Roger, like Watari, has always over-accommodated. Some would even say to problematic lengths. Near exhales and forces himself to say, "a flight for tomorrow is fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'll be… fine," Near says, even though he sounds hardly convinced himself.

Roger betrays his relief with a quiet exhale. "Yes, that would be easier for me. There should be some pasta still left in the fridge for you."

"Yes, Roger, I'll see you tomorrow. Good night," he says and hangs up the private line before he can change his mind. He throws the missile and this time, it bounces off the doorknob and disappears behind a pile of fallen dominoes.

Near rises from the floor with some difficulty and gives himself a minute to adjust, both physically and mentally. The first thing he does is to switch on his wall of television monitors. Each screen is on a different channel, and the sounds of salesmen, stoves lighting, cartoons, music videos, and a church choir overlap into a cacophony of sounds that most people would find overwhelming. For someone who grew up in an orphanage with twenty other children, it sounds just like home. The noise carries through the hallways and follow him all the way to the kitchen. One bowl of plain macaroni noodles without sauce later, he curls up on the sofa and falls asleep to the sound of a Western movie's rolling credits.

_Thump_

Near drowsily stirs on the couch, but doesn't get up, unwilling to break the bubble of warmth.

_THUMP THUMP THUMP_

Near sits up and holds his breath, listening intently. Was this a neighbour or possibly a threat? Had someone managed to track the young detective down? Whoever it was, they weren't letting up on the door. Trained to assume the worst and prepare for every scenario, Near moves for the fireplace without hesitation. The televisions have all shifted to sleep mode, and the dull glow of the dark screens is enough for Near to tiptoe around piles of lego to the hidden control panel. He slides the cover off the light switch and prepares to push the panic button that will send a distress signal to Wammy's House and unlock a secret space behind the fireplace.

"Near."

The voice is unmistakable. For ten years, that voice taunted him at the dining table, followed him into the library to threaten him, laughed while smashing a favourite toy robot into pieces, and cried at having lost yet another game or test to Near. The only people who knew of this office location are Wammy's students and personnel, but he never imagined to see Mello again after he stormed off into the night and swore to only return with Kira's head on a platter. A television screen flickers to the outdoor camera feed and sure enough, a young boy dressed in black and a head full of blond hair leans against the door. Something is wrong. Near ignores the fireplace and heads for the door.

The similarities nearly end there since when he opens the door, it almost feels like meeting someone else in a dream. Mello's round cheeks and soft edges grew out into sharp edges and jagged scars running down the ear. His hair grows wild and free and reaches past his shoulders. There's so much to take in- the stench of gunpowder and something sour, the gun poking out of its holster at his hip, blood splattered on his cheek that isn't his, a soaked sleeve covered with blood that certainly _is_ his, and a bruise on his cheek that originated from a fist several times his size, and icy blue eyes that can't seem to focus on Near's. "Didn't know… where else…" He pitches forward before he can finish.

Near yelps when they both crash backwards into the hallway. Forcing down a gag, he immediately presses his hand around Mello's gunshot wound and tries to pull them inside. All the blood that soaks into his white pajamas makes it disgustingly easier to slip out from underneath the unconscious body and drag-slide him to the kitchen where they keep their first-aid supplies and several strong medications that are normally only found in hospitals. Near works smoothly and efficiently, cutting off Mello's sleeve and shirt without batting an eye, and securing a tourniquet around his bicep. There's a lot of blood but it hasn't struck an artery, so it's most likely the drugs that put him in such a disheveled state. Possibly GHB. Small laceration on the neck. Blood and scuff marks on his shoe. "Mello…. What have you gotten yourself into?"

Several hours later, Mello begins to stir. His head is pounding and it feels like he has gauze in his mouth. "Where…?" Mello's hand pats his thigh for his holster, but comes empty. He sits up so quickly he nearly passes out again.

"You're safe now," Near answers and gestures to where he set the gun and a glass of water. "I've been listening to the police radio and you've made quite a scene of the local mafia, haven't you?"

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for this prompt! My first fanfic, and a short one oops.


End file.
